The hunter becomes the hunted, trapped at sea,
A playground no more, littered by thee,
She thrashed, and she turned, yet few could see,
Trapped by the net, made of plastic,
A sorrowful day, for it could be his last,
Along comes a bottle, the 50th today,
All hard and plastic, no sign of decay,
The humans who made it, no sign of dismay,
For the sea creatures of life, may disappear each day,
They have no hope, when day turns to night,
Out of the shadows, a frogman exists,
He swims up close, he draws his knife,
Three cuts in the harness, she has a life,
Oh why, oh why, should it be this way,
We are the shepherds, let’s show the way,
Our creatures are precious, they must stay.
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